Risqué Business
by MeghanJinx
Summary: Ever wonder how Lucius and Narcissa met? I put a bit of a humorous spin on the idea... silk, leather, seduction, mini-strip shows, a playfully sexy conversation, snogging... and just about everything in between.


Risqué Business

Risqué Business

By: Meghan~Jinx

Authors note: AHHH! Don't read! It's all crap! Ahem. Author Opinion. Anyway, this is much stupider than anything I've ever written is. It's sort of like Guess-the-Malfoy, until the middle. Oh, and ever since I wrote this, my mental image of Narcissa looks a bit like Gwen Stefani from the 'Let Me Blow Ya' Mind' video. :) 

Rating: PG, for VERY obvious reasons.

Category: Romance/Humor 

Started On: Thursday, April 19, 2001

Finished: Friday, July 18, 2001

Hours: Roughly, 70

Note for story: I know L/N didn't probably meet this way… but I was kind of sick of the tragedy-romantic ways, or Lucius forcing Narcissa or something, so I kinda make a humorous spin on the idea. Take it with a grain of salt. I know they're both OOC. I sort of used the idea that if a child is raised in a strict house-hold, where they have little-to-no freedom to do as they please, it could result in them do something most outlandish and rebellious- just to prove to their parents that they can stand on their own two feet.

Thank You: I'd like to thank my real friend Aimee for indirectly coming up with the title (you should have _seen_ the names that I had picked out… urg…) and to my friend Amber for coming up with the summary (I knew you had to be good for something… ::grins innocently, because Amber might read this::) Thanks to Paige Collins for giving me something L/N could talk about… I suck at dialogue. And big ol' thank you to Starfish Girl my great beta reader who get's everything I miss (trust me, a lot.) I couldn't do without you.

…~*~…

I'd never known what _exactly_ they had meant when they had said 'beads of sweat', until this point in my life, when small droplets of perspiration congregated on my forehead, my nose, and dripped down the back of my neck, like water. I hated the way sweat felt in my hair; the underside was always damp; the top was dry. This unpleasant sensation was precisely what I felt at this moment as I tucked my head against the wind. My broom dipped forward, catching my chest with it. The cool wind whipped my hair as I plummeted, blowing the sweat from my face.

I felt the individual grass blades brush my ankles as I skimmed the ground, my golden query in sight, just a few yards ahead…

My broom bucked as I nearly released it from my slick palms… dove as I reached my hand out… wrapped it around the Snitch…

"Ah- HAH!" I yelled triumphantly, all though there was no soul around to share in my victory. Instead, I gave myself a silent congratulations, threw my broom over my shoulder, and marched back to the house, feeling as though I'd accomplished something -_today _at least.Five times in a row was what! Five times the Snitch had crossed my quick hand.

I was quite the natural. Quidditch was always my passion. Despite being athletic, I wasn't on my house team. It wasn't very high on my list of Things to Be Perfect at Before Eighteen…not like my academic standing (which in my parents' opinion was _less_ than perfect. It was average. What could I possibly do? At least I _try_), and having fun (of the _right_ kind, of course… but let's not get into that subject right now, right? Right…) Like any normal wizard teenager would.

I ran my fingers through my blonde hair, which came back wet.

A house-elf fumbled to open the door for me as soon as my form appeared at the steps. 

"Here…sir…"

It cowered a bit, as I walked in. Teasing the tension, I gave him my best look of pure _evil_, which did it for the fool. He backed away, leaving me to walk across the main walkway and up the velvet carpet that ran down the stairs like a waterfall, laughing and shaking my head.

Simple, unspoiled fun.

My mother appeared at the top of the stairs, pausing in a callous sort of fury as though she had been hurrying off to some destination, as I made my way to my room.

"There you are!" she snapped, looking down at my approaching self. "Where have you been?"

"Outside-"

She turned her nose up at me, as she noticed I had actual _sweat_ on me.

"Where _have_ you been? Specifically," she asked, as I reached where she was standing, and stood next to her, looking her in the eyes.

"Practicing Quidditch…uh…in the yard… what else?"

"Maybe doing something productive…" She shook her head. "Well, get dressed. Put on dress robes. Be ready by six. Being late will not be tolerated. No excuses."

"Or maybe explanations?" 

"We're having dinner with the DelaGreenes," she said, rather coldly.

"We are? Why? Not another set-up I hope?"

"To be so very _blunt_, yes. The crowd you're around… you need to be in better company," she sniffed, glaring at me.

I rolled my eyes. "Just what I need tonight."

"I don't need your attitude! Be polite for once! This is very good company (very _important _company to your father) and I need you to make a good impression on them. Have a better outlook, for heavens sake."

"How's this: oh joy! I'm ever so thrilled! How quite splendid!" I retorted in a flippant tone, as I strutted away.

"Maybe you'd be half a person if you'd cut that arrogance out." She sighed and shook her head again. "God knows what _you_ have to be arrogant about."

…~*~…

Several hours, some very sarcastic comments for yours truly, later, the carriage moved slowly through the nigh. It was terrifically silent- half of me appreciated every second of it. The other, lesser brave half was scared to death by it. Silence meant thinking. Silence meant contemplating.

Something I did not need at the moment in question. My mother sat, a dazed expression all over her face, and she looked at me as though she _loathed_ me, and did not possess the motives to direct this feeling towards me. My father was quiet, his silver eyes darting about and ever so often resting on me.

"Lucius?" I was snatched violently from my thoughts by my father's voice. "Lucius!" 

"Um…er… sir?"

"We need to have a talk before we arrive there."

"What sort of talk, sir?" I bit the inside of my lip, feeling as though I'd asked too many questions.

"There a few, ah, 'rules' of this family…"

"That important, huh?"

"Yes," he answered. His voice was nearly as icy as his eyes (which sent chills up my spine even more than his words.) "And I'll thank you not to interrupt me while I speak. The DelaGreenes are a very socially _and_ politically prominent family. And currently, I hope you are under the impression that failure to perform under the present standards will be dealt with most harshly."

In my mind's eye, I could see my face. It was rigid (fear, perhaps?), and my lips were in a straight line, as I nodded sagely, devouring and hanging onto each word with rapt interest.

Though I can act, and also lie very well, I could not fake engrossment in this topic; I had to listen. Not going by the standards was up against the unappealing choice of physical pain. 

"Understand, Lucius?"

Another nod, and a fervently truthful 'yes, sir'. 

Looking out the window, in the distance loomed something that looked like a mountain. Bordering the huge estate was a fence of iron, with spiky poles rising into the misty air. A huge, gray gate stood in the center, and on the door was a huge engraved letter 'D'.

As quickly as we had set off, the carriage stopped. And where it did stop! Outside a huge mansion, nearly as large as our own. Huge towers rose into the sky. The entire manor was black, and silhouetted against the moon in a way that reminded me of some Gothic, romantic castle. 

It was terrifying.

It was intimidating. 

It was macabre.

It was wonderful. Just a vampire-like residence. Bats would make a nice addition. And a dragon in a moat...

However the matter, I stepped out of the carriage as the respectable man I should be and not the frightened-stiff young man I am, undaunted, and proceeded up the stairs after my parents, who both had a sort of smirk across their faces.

Sadistic little beings.

At the moment, I hated them both.

As we walked down the pathway to the door, I caught a glimpse of one of the high windows, where a light was on. Standing in the window, watching, was a young woman. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in severely tight bun, and her dress was very modest, and a dark velvet color. A vague, depressed look hung about her face, (her skin was so very fair and soft looking-as though the moon was shining down upon it) as she looked down at us. 

That must be her.

The girl.

I sighed. A typical shy, and innocent girl. Lovely, but as trifle _dull_, like the others. But this swift accusation was quickly quieted as the night pressed on. 

A servant appeared at the door, and opened it for us. I took a deep breath as I entered the grandeur. The first thing I noticed was… the _light_. As the servant pulled the door back, I realized it was coming from the magnificent chandelier hanging on a rigid chain above our heads.

My boots clicked along the floor, which was made of circular golden stones. The ceiling was impressively high, where it had been magically painted with beautiful murals one could liken to the Sistine Chapel. In the very center of the main hall was a golden fountain, which sprayed out pristine, clear water unto the pool, with ripples. On either side were two sweeping staircases making a half-circle around the fountain. The carpet that ran down the stairs was also golden.

It was so _very_ bright, and magnificent. 

"Master and Madame are both in the drawing room, awaiting your company," the servant chimed in, escorting us to the room. 

I wondered where the girl was.

At entering the room, the first thing one would notice was the atmosphere. Chilling… and so _superficial _is the way I shall describe it. As though it was an act… a scene from a theatrical production. It was so rehearsed. My reaction? 'Oh well. Better than being together entirely too much and ignoring your child…'

Which was, well, the _classic_ case of my family.

My parents love each other, but honestly, with love there are arguments. And what arguments there are!

They know I exist (only when I do something wrong, however…), but so far, an outsider from our world wouldn't very well _know_ this, though.

Inside the room was a man sitting in a chair, his hair a dark black color. His eyes flicked to the door, and they widened a hair.

A woman, who was also sitting, smiled when she saw us. _Her_ hair was a dark golden color, exactly like the girl's. 

They rose, and crossed the room to where my parents and I were standing. 

"Ah, Richard," he said quietly to my father, shaking his hand. "And Eva, a pleasure as well." He looked at my face directly, where his dark, black eyes made unpleasant contact and sent silent chills through me. His glance looked me up and down, judging me from the inside out.

The inside was what frightened me. What if _I_ didn't do anything, but they didn't like me for _me_?

That was even worse than making a mistake. You can learn from them, but I simply wasn't going to change my very _being _to suit the particular tastes of rich family friends and their stuck-up daughter.

And then it came to…I was hoping…

"And this must be Lucius." I felt a small jolt at my name and also a bit of dread that I'd been noticed.

"Correct."

Mrs. DelaGreene nodded slightly, as though just noticing I was there.

"And how is business in your family?"

"Fine as usual. And you?"

"We're doing…quite well actually," said Mr. DelaGreene uncertainly.

"Come and have a seat in the drawing room. We have _much_ to discuss." Mrs. DelaGreene's head inclined a bit on the word 'much', and her eyes widened slightly as though highlighting the extreme significance of its placement in the sentence.

My mother's eyes widened a little also, as though in non-verbal agreement and said, with a smile, "But of course." She followed behind them and sat down gingerly in a high-back chair. How could my parents _stand_ the company of people like this? It made me so cautious… nervous and frightened. As though I was on show constantly, like a little performing dog.

"As I've already stated," Mrs. DelaGreene said, getting right to business, her face aglow with the burning desire to say something, (but I wasn't quite sure _what_), "my husband and I are well, but our daughter…" She sighed, cocked an eyebrow, and looked at Mr. DelaGreene. 

"Entirely different story," he added quietly, his voice full of unrealistic drama and topped the

whole thing off with the same tragic look.

"Oh?" asked my father, sounding mildly-interested.

"What sort of problems?" my mother inquired, leaning forward in very convincing concern.

"The usual…just teenagers -I suppose…" began Mr. DelaGreene.

My mother nodded. "Yes, yes. I believe I do know…" She sent me a quick glance using her peripheral vision. "It's hard to believe I was that age once."

"But _I_ certainly wasn't didn't act like that at that age," observed Mrs. DelaGreene, fluffing her hair from her shoulders loftily.

Her husband nodded in agreement. "Heaven forbid. Running around with common riffraff she finds at that school..." His voice trailed with a slight unmistakable shudder.

"Yes… Narcissa needs company… better ones than the males _I've _seen her with," Mrs. DelaGreene agreed, under her breath, with a disdainful eye roll. She looked back to my parents, smiling.

"We feel she needs more…refined company." She gave me a quick, slightly disapproving once-over, as she her husband had done. She seemed to add without words, 'if he suffices.'

She glanced up at the great, polished grandfather clock on her right and bit the inside of her lip, itching to add more. 

I frowned.

"Our daughter should be down any moment," said Mr. DelaGreene nearly catching me surreptitiously making a face. 

__

Narcissa, Upstairs

The face that stared back at me in the mirror grated my nerves larger than anything else you could possibly imagine did.

The face was so… _superficial._ So…_unreal_. It wasn't me at all. Like I was a painting.

Basically, that _is_ I was. A painting of my parents own wishes. Drawn from my father's image of how _every_ female should act and be. Seen and not heard! Conservative! 

How sexist my father can be at times, it's a wonder.

Every morning I wake up, the sunlight floods in, and my heart sinks as I open my closet. 

Do you know what I _see_?

Clothing! Well, of course I see _clothing. _

Girl clothes! Like there should be…these outfits are so…words fail… _young_ and plain. Awfully. The clothing there is also all black. And beige. And white. But only white _blouses_. My father thinks white pants and white skirts are _much_ too racy.

It's not as though they are trying to do me any good, or protect me from the harsh, harsh world we reside in, the answer is as simple as solving a child-like equation. They love control. Crave it. _Are _it. And controlling me. Making me fit into their mold. I _don't_ fit, so I simply break the mold. They don't like it at all. They don't like _anything_ I do, while we go after _that_ matter

So they punish me for being myself. 

But isn't that healthy? Being what's inside my heart, instead of what they've crammed forcefully into my head, the one void they try to take over? I find it that way. Not as though I am some painted doll. So for now, I shall say who I am, and who I am is not their definition of _perfect_. 

I wish for once, I could show them the real Narcissa. (And Lord, doesn't the _name_ speak all as well?)

And tonight, a certain _very_ important family is coming over. They say I better not slip up. They say this is much too important.

I remember the sighs and eye rolls that followed that request. Another boy for them to make me meet. Another failed attempt. Another lecture.

_Don't act like that, Narcissa! They don't like that._

If they can't love me for me, what else is there?

I heard a carriage pull up outside. Leaving my bed, where I had been brooding and contemplating, I sat in the chair next to the window (which was open) and allowed the cool night breeze caress my face. It couldn't blow my hair; the solution to that problem _being_ that my parents wanted me to wear it in a bun for tonight. And my plain black dress was so concealing. It hid my perfect figure wonderfully. The dress itself was in beautiful, dark, exquisite velvet, but it needed a more revealing neckline, or a slit up the side. My parents would just _die_ if they saw me in a dress like that. 

The family was climbing out and making their way to our mansion. They were all blonde and powerful looking. A young man followed the couple; he must have been _the_ young man.

He looked up at me and caught my eye. His were a steely gray. Intimidating, one could say. Pensive. 

I turned away. He'd seen me like this. Now I just _knew_ what sort he thought I was. 

I stood up, and walked across the white carpet to my closet. Opening revealed the inevitable doom that stood before me. I had to find something different to wear. Something daring…

And where would I find that?

Clearly, at that moment, my head was somewhere different. But then, as I regained my brain once more, my memory struck a chord even louder, and I remembered a _certain_ skirt I had bought while cleverly incognito, and from that shop, I had smuggled my purchase in, all the while wondering _which_ occasion to wear it on. Some arose in my mind, but tonight…yes…tonight would be perfect…

Now, what about a top?

I gave a purely sinful and joyous giggle. 

_Who said it had to be a _blouse, _exactly_? I thought, as I dug through my closet, looking for just the right thing…

I'd show them.

I'd show them all.

I'd show them all a little more than they're ever seen before.

__

Lucius

Bored and Annoyed. 

I would have my parents tell me _all_ the things I _should _have done, or did wrong. (But honestly, I never actually _did_ anything; that's just perfectionists who think that you must have a gift for telepathy, and hate you because you can't read eyebrow messages, for you.)

As my gaze shifted to the sweeping staircase, (the left side was visible through the open door) my mind turned towards the buzzing of a _daydream_ of all possibly imaginings I _could have_ conceived. 

The staircase reminded me of a fairy-tale. Like the sort I always saw in those big, dusty books in our manor's library.

More as though dancing along the lines of a Cinderella-like fantasy where I might have been Prince Lucius, come to call on the fair princess, with a heart like ice I would soon melt with my charm. Charm… 

My stupid wondering was interrupted by a voice. A voice… no too cliché… the voice was not like bells ringing. That's a sickening description anyway. Too sweet and plastic. (How many people have you actually met that sounded like bells? That's what I thought… I rest my case.) The voice was like a violin… not exactly sorrowful, not deep, not high, nestled in the middle, with a bit of vivacious energy bottled within, that either made you cry, laugher, or pleased you down to your bones. It struck the appearance of an innocent girl, repressing her rebellious side. Kiwi, tart and sweet.

The voice had said, "Father? Have the guests arrived?"

I followed the direction. It was coming from the staircase. And flying like a spirit down that layout of steps was one of the most beautiful creatures I'd ever seen.

Her skin was white and pure. Not unhealthy pale, but perfect glass skin that had never seemed to see a blemish. Pure and beautiful. Her build was delicate and light, which was framed by golden tresses that cascaded down her back, glowing in the light. It was wild, and unruly, as though she hadn't brushed in for ages. 

Natural. 

Wonderful. 

But this wasn't what made me gawk so. 

Her choice of attire wasn't very…_fitting_ for a lady of her class. Objectionable, racy, _obscene_… but these were none of the adjectives I'd use. None of this ever seemed to have found way into my vernacular, as much as it did my parents. Not much shocked me these days, and _that_ was for sure.

I shot a glimpse of my mother. Her face was perfect: just the right level of horror mixed in with repulsion. 

I smiled to myself and looked back at the girl. Underneath that long, beautiful hair was (I kid you not) something that looked _very_ similar to a bikini top. And not just _any_ modest kind either. It wasn't anything that should have been on a girl of her age. Her ankles peeked out from beneath an expensive-looking golden silk skirt that was nearly sheer, with a floral pattern. Very low cut, because her lower stomach and navel (gasp! Sarcasm…sarcasm…) showed. Tied around her tiny waist was a cord, (a braided makeshift belt). It reminded me once again of the big books and fairy tales. It looked very nymph-like… as though something a fairy or pixie would sport.

She grinned cockily and turned to her parents. "Evening Mother, Father… and to our guests, the Malfoys, delighted to see you well."

Mr. DelaGreene's face was quickly turning red. He growled, quietly, "Narcissa, what is the meaning of this?"

"Meaning of what? Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"I'll do more than that-" He started to stand but his wife held his arm. Narcissa took a step backwards, a smile still on her face.

"Don't start a fight, Christopher," she said, sharply.

"I'll tell her what the meaning is…" 

His wife raised her eyebrows at him. "Narcissa, what on earth _are_ you wearing, child?"

"Something that makes me _comfortable_. I feel more myself when I'm comfortable." She nodded and smiled. 

Another noise from Mr. DelaGreene. 

Narcissa pouted. "You don't like my outfit?" My parents looked tense, as thought they expected something to happen.

"We certainly don't approve of it, young lady," said her father.

"Oh, you are _so_ right. It _is_ missing something…" She reached down, and with a fluid movement, pulled the cord from around her waist. The skirt dropped to her knees, around her ankles. My eyes had a strong urge to close, but instead, they widened. 

Under _that_ skirt, was a much shorter (and tighter) one that looked to be made out of dark leather. 

Her father leapt to his feet. Narcissa stood her ground, smirking.

"I want an explanation _now_!"

"I already gave you one." Her eyes narrowed. "That should be good enough for you."

"Well I say it isn't!"

"You want an explanation?"

"I thought we cleared those grounds already!"

"You really want me to show you what I think?"

"Narcissa-"

"Well I'll give you one." For a split moment I thought she might be considering giving him her middle finger or calling him something rude. That was something most of my past girlfriends would have done. Only Narcissa looked a bit too classy of that. Then again, with the leather ensemble, she sort of destroyed salvaging any respect my parents had for her. "I'm sick of wearing what you want me to wear."

"But Narcissa," said her mother, "those are clothes a _lady_ should wear…" 

"A lady?" 

"…Not as though I consider you a lady," she added, scathingly.

"And I'm tired of doing what you tell me to-"

"…We know best… though…"

"And fed-up with _your_ criticism!" she screamed, causing her mother's mouth to form a small _o_. "And just plain sickened. I am capable of living my own life in a responsible way!"

"Well, you've proven tonight that you can't do that."

"Yes I can-"

"Now go upstairs and change." 

Narcissa opened her mouth to protest, but her father held up his hand.

"_Now_, Narcissa! Did I say later?"

"I'm not a child!"

"But you live under my roof, and therefor will do as I say!"

Narcissa balled her fists and grunted in frustration. 

"Tell me all you want now, but when I _leave_ and become successful without you, I'll be gone for good, and you'll regret it," she snapped icily, spun, nearly tripped over her skirt and flounced out of the room.

From that point on conversation turned to that of talks of what happens when a female is 'too liberated'. As they went on more and more on the poor girl, talking about how horrible a person she was. It made me feel bad in the pit of my stomach to hear them say those things. 

I felt for her. I've been in the same situation. And more, she didn't know what they were saying behind her back.

"May I be excused?" I asked, pursing my lips to keep out the stream of words that longed to be said. They were moving in my mouth and fighting to break loose.

"And why?" asked my father.

"I-I need some fresh air." I rose and walked to the door, and into the hall.

But just as I'd thought I was free, I heard my mother say after me, "Lucius, what are you _really_ going to do?"

And with a smirk I called back, "I'm going to see if she needs help zipping her dress." With that, I tore from the hallway, laughing as I tried to vision the horrified looks on the faces of my parents.

…~*~…

I stepped out into the dark. A soft breeze swirled the air around me. A gentle, warm breeze. Soothing. Calming. It felt the season, all right. 

And as if carried on the wind, a sound of sobbing rang faintly through the night. I followed the sound, across the lawn where the moon cast a bright glow littered with shadows cast by the trees. I looked up at the light. It was a full moon tonight, bright and luminous in all it's glory, peeking from behind strands of purple-black clouds, delicate like smoke. 

Night. It's odd, isn't it? The dim all around you, yet you can see. And it's the exact same as it was in the light. Yet people are afraid of it. It possesses an inspirational, unearthly aura about it, rising from the ground with the fog, and mingling with the special night air. 

The crying became louder as I approached a small garden on the left side of the grounds. It was small, with a few stone paths, some beautiful flowers (I noticed on in particular- Narcissus), and a few oddly shaped shrubs...typical. Yet above a small wooden bench was a willow tree that was extremely out of place, but it worked with the mood of the garden, reflecting the silvery light on its smooth trunk, and rustling it's sweeping branches in the wind mournfully. And underneath, on the bench was a small, sobbing blonde figure, which was (_surprise_) Narcissa.

She was bent over, doubled, her knees at her chin. I made my movements as silent as could, but being not very graceful by nature, I of course sounded a bit like a small elephant tromping about. She looked up. 

Shining and glittering like diamonds on her cheeks were tears. Her unruly hair was blowing around. It was a terribly moody setting. 

"W-what are you doing out here?" she snapped, glaring. "Come to ridicule me? Come to give me some holier-than-thou, stiff speech on managing myself, Malfoy Prince?" She sniffed and looked down at her hands.

"I did come to talk to you, don't wince like that- I promise I won't be preachy... please? Can I sit? Narcissa...look at me..."

"What makes me think you're not like the rest? Men. You're all so _typical_...and predictable..."

"Narcissa..." I didn't wait for an invitation. I sat down anyway. The bench was hard and cold.

She turned away.

"Oh, c'mon... it's not that bad."

Back still turned she replied. "Yes it is."

"But seriously, consider... it's not..."

"Please, stop trying to cheer me up."

"Sorry you feel that way. I'll just let you be miserable then. I'm not going away, though."

"Which brings us to the question: why do _you_ care?" 

"Because you and I aren't all that different."

She turned her tear-streaked face towards me. I'd never seen that look on anyone her age. It was so…trapped. Like a caged animal pleading _help me or end my misery_. 

"You have no idea," she said full of…something. I wasn't sure. I never was any good at interpreting emotions, especially with women.

But still… "What idea do I not have?"

"How…how can you sit there and tell me you know what it's like to be me? You don't know anything about me…or about my life…or about my parents…"

"I never will if you don't tell me."

She spread her hands out. "What do you want to know?"

"Why you're so afraid of talking."

"I'm not afraid of talking, What do you think we're doing now?"

"Getting absolutely nowhere."

"Where exactly do you want to go?"

"Where I can find you, that's where."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Why the sudden interest in me?"

"You seem interesting," I said simply, shrugging my shoulders.

She narrowed her eyes out of something that looked vaguely like suspicion. "That's what they all say. But as soon as I open up…you'll just write me off…"

"How do you know what I'm going to do?"

"You're all the same. Everyone last miserable one of you." She bit her lip. "D'you think it's easy having people call every night? Like rich little boys and their rich little parents, only interested in prolonging their family heritage and not the happiness of their children. And the boys are no different. They take one look at me and think me to be another mindless thing…and they fall for my beauty, and they fall for my money, and pretty soon, when they see the real me, the me _behind_ the prisons my parents have built for me, they fall right out of love." She pursed her lips together.

"And… my parents are angry at me…for spoiling another relationship. And they're so ridiculing… and so… cold-hearted. They don't even care that I'm unhappy. They…they make me act the way they want me to…and punish me for trying to make people fall in love with me… but how can I, when… God… can't I even _try_?" 

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"And…and I was so worried tonight that I'd fouled our possible relationship up, too."

"No Narcissa you didn't do-" 

"I wanted to prove to my parents I was… the person they wanted me…me…" her voice began to break. 

"But you can't-"

"I don't care what they think…I just wanted you to like me…"

As she added this, her voice became an octave higher. Chin quivered, chest shuddered, and she broke down into a fit of uncontrollable sobs. She felt forward, straight into my arms, somehow confident I would catch her. I did of course, and let her bury her head into my shoulder letting her feelings free of their confinement, to tear about and do as they please.

Through the emotional weeping she continued her story. Mostly incoherent babbling and a few fitful sentences.

I wrapped my arm around her back, my hand on her slender shoulders and pressed her torso against my own.

"Don't cry… _please_ don't cry…"

I felt her lift her head from my shoulder. "I don't want you to think of me in a bad way…" The words were littered with soprano-high squeaks. I groaned inwardly. If there's one thing I _hate_ its squeaking girls.

I ran my hand down her back as began to release my grip. But my palm started as I felt something. I bit my lip and asked her, "Narcissa…does your father hurt you?"

She broke away from me, and I felt a warmth being lifted. I held her at arms length and looked into her face.

"N-no…not r-really…"

"Narcissa…" I prodded, my voice a bit more forceful.

"S-sometimes…not all the time…"

"He does?"

"Yes…yes…he does. Now…it's just none of your business really…"

"I know. I just think it's kind of sad."

"Sad? Sad, how?"

"Just because you're hurting so much in here already-" I indicated to her heart. "It's a shame he feels the need to make you hurt physically. It's unfair, too. Wrong. One's bad enough, huh?"

"Both of them…both of them…it _is_ so unfair…" She leaned back, clenched her teeth and fists, and tried desperately not to cry again.

"I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you Narcissa."

"I wish…I wish you could. But every day a new wound, a new hole, a new place that's falling apart…" She ran her fingers through her hair, her tears coming more slowly, and leaking freely. "It's like I'm screaming. Screaming and trapped. A cycle everyday just… one way. It's goes around and around. I need to stop screaming. My voice will soon become hoarse. And I'll stop and accept it. I don't want to do that, Lucius. I don't. And every time I see an opening a new...new place I try to get out. But as soon as I try…the boulders fall in…it caves in and I'm trapped. Alone in the dark looking a bit of light. Something to help."

Her head fell forward into her hands as she collapsed again. 

"I'll help, I said I would. I'm here, remember. I'll heal those wounds. I can dig you out."

"How can you? Put yourself in my place. What could you possibly say?"

"I already am. I have been. I am." I felt as though I was explaining something, trying to reassure her. It wasn't working. Empathy was the way, not sympathy. Sympathy made you feel better but did nothing for understanding the situation. "You think it's easy for me, don't you? You think I have a perfect life, don't you?"

"Y-you aren't very bad off…" She sniffed sharply, wiped her eyes with one finger and began hiccuping a little as she collected herself.

"True. And I shouldn't be complaining. But we aren't all that different. Your parents remind me so incredibly much like my own. You think my parents are going to be happy that this whole little trip is so _very_ ruined? Who do you think they'll blame? Certainly not you. You're innocent. They'll look to blame somebody they know it won't affect. Like me." 

I sighed and nodded, realizing every word was true, and if not, was to _become_ true. "And then they'll start their 'proper young man lecture'. I can hear them now… 'and also your conduct and manners could use a dash of work. You aren't a Mudblood, you're a full-blooded wizard and it's time you started to act like it. Any fool not unlike yourself could take you as _Muggle_...' God forbid that should ever happen." I rolled my eyes.

"Y-your parents say things like that? Did you see how my father acted in the drawing room? That's a little taste. Only that's his 'Bad-Grade' Temper. His 'Oh-Look-Narcissa-You've-Screwed-Things-Up-_Again_' Temper is much worse. Horrible. And he…he's got Mother backing him up." There was a tiny hint of resent in her voice. "I used to be so wonderful to them. I think a long time ago they loved me… they don't now, and that's a fact." 

Silence.

It seemed to hum in the air around us.

"Did you really mean what you said about leaving?"

"Oh that." She paused. "I tell them things like that to make them feel bad and apologize. Doesn't work. Makes me feel better. Makes me feel like revenge."

She brushed the blowing strands from her eyes. They were swollen and red, and her face streaked. But she still looked beautiful. 

Very beautiful.

"You're a very, very attractive girl, Narcissa. Did anyone every tell you that?"

She smiled, for the first time, and I realized how she glowed when she had a tiny shred of happiness on her face. It was a sad sort of smile, but one nonetheless. 

"Yeah. That's what they all say."

"Er…_they_?"  
"Oh, all the guys I've been with."

"Been with?"  
"I'm not exactly the Golden Girl my parents…uh…think I am," she admitted, shrugging

apologetically.

"I kinda got that signal from the whole…ah…" I nodded towards her skirt. "…Leather thing." 

"Yeah, but I've got 'em fooled. They think I'm Miss Sweet Sugar. Hardly. I'd hate them to learn my nick." She smiled again, more impishly cocking her head.

"Who gave you your name?" 

"Oh, the boys at school."

"The ones you were with?" I asked, feeling my nostrils flare slightly.

"Precisely."

"Where do you go to school?"

"Hogwarts." She looked up at the stars, the mood lightened, wind still combing her tresses with fierceness and vehement impetuosity.

"I thought I remembered you from somewhere," I mumbled, a bit…struck by her. "W-what year?"

She sighed, not impatiently, but contentedly, her body relaxed against her arms in an unladylike slump, her eyes locked on the sky, a look of wistful dreaming in them. "I'm in sixth next year. How about you?"

"I'll be in seventh."

She looked down at me, in surprise. "Why are you star-is there something in my hair?" She flipped her hand and began brushing her hair with her fingers, the soft blonde curling and knotting around them.

"No…I just think you're…" my mind scraped bottom for a word, "very, very _gorgeous_."

She frowned, to my dismay. "That's the second time you've told me that tonight. So… what else?"

"Huh?"

"What else? What else do you see in me?" She spread her hands out indicating.

"I think you're smart…"

"Okay…" She pursed her lips tightly. "What makes you think that?"

"You…you obviously act as though you're…ah…independent and brilliant enough to make decisions on your own."

"All right. And…?" A rolling motion with her hands.

"And… you're funny."

"Really? And what's so funny about me?"

"You…obviously have a sense of humor."

"Oh. Anything else?"

"Uh… oh, Narcissa. I'm running out of words, but you know what I mean."

She chuckled softly. "So, that's it."

"I suppose so…oh wait…one thing…"

"And that would be…?" She shook her head slightly. 

"You're perfect. Just… a perfect girl. Independent…strong… witty…sexy… in my opinion, anyway."

She raised her eyebrows. "Perfect. Funny you should use that word."

"Funny how?"

"Do…do you have any idea what it's like to be called 'perfect?'"

"I didn't mean-"

"It means performing your whole life. Being everyone's vision. Everybody's little model. It gets tiring, you know?"

I didn't know what to say at this point. What _could _I say? "Well, I guess you're right about that. I don't really know what it feels to be that perfect…"

Her next sentence was full was very strongly voiced and well put. More a command than anything. "Ugh, don't use that word. Please. It's just all my life…that's what I've heard. I've heard perfect…perfect figure, perfect hair, teeth, face…and jealously. Envy doesn't feel good. Having people hate you, and covet everything you have feels like guilt. I don't see possibly how my mother feeds off that kind of thing. She loves jealously. Don't use that word either. I'm sick of them both."

I held my hands up. "Okay, okay. I won't, okay." I sighed. "About the whole jealousy scenario…I know what you mean, but not, but I do still..."

Narcissa grinned in spite of herself. "You're odd. I like that."

"Ha. Don't you know it…" my voice trailed, laughing nervously.

"You're not how I thought you'd be," Narcissa said, suddenly, as though remembering. "You surprised me, I guess."

I smiled too. "You're not how I thought you would be, either. I thought you'd be this little perfect, egotistical girl her threw her hair over her shoulder…you get the idea," I explained, shrugging.

Narcissa looked down suddenly. "My mother."

I put my hand under her chin and lifted her head up so she looked at me. "You're not like that."

"I will be one day. I just know it. I already am. I can barely stand myself sometimes. I'm like a shadow…an image…a-" I pulled her face closer, quicker. Her lips hit mine, and my mouth was filled with the sweet taste of hers, soft, satiny lips frozen in a moment on the clock with mine. I could feel her mouth opening as she caved to the idea.   
"What was that?" she gasped as she pulled away, looking me in the eyes, frightened, pleased, and curious all at once (which caused her eyes to become even more blue than ever).

"A reminder to show what I think you are. Like this." The Kiss came again, more quickly, more forceful, as she went along. So forceful, I felt my arms (which were clenched at my side) loosen, and find my way back around her body, smoothing along her slender shoulders, her delicate back. She felt against me, and we over-balanced, causing me to fall backwards onto the bench. As I hit, I felt the wood press her hands in my back. 

"Oh… like this?" She returned the kiss, only more slow and mellow.

"Like this…"

"Mm-hmmm…"

"You ever had it like that?"

"I've given it like that."

"To the ones you were 'with?'"

"Uh-huh. But they've never given it back quite so good." She closed her eyes for a second, and re-opened them with a quirky smile. "Remember the nickname I mentioned?"

"What was it?"

"Tigress."

I sat up and pushed her away discreetly, anew feeling overcoming me… the sudden 'Golden Girl' sentence popped into my mind. "I don't know about you and-"

"Oh Lucius!" She opened her mouth slightly and shook her head. "I didn't mean to give you _that_ impression…. I'm not that kind of girl…I… would never…not with a boy I hardly knew…"

"It's all right, Narcissa… I understand." I frowned. "What about a little bit?"

"Lucius!"

"No…no…just like before."

"The, uh, kiss?"

"Just like that. That was per- it was nice."

"Only nice?"

"I admit. It was pretty good."

"Okay, just for that, you get a little."

"A little." But before I could utter another word, my breath became hers once more, and a gentle vibration seized my body sending chills down my back, a tingling at the base of my spine, and a heat in my chest. Our spirits intertwined, for the moment, as one.

It felt like heaven.

Divine heaven.

It _was_ heaven.

For tonight, I fell in love with a goddess, concerned about her hair, skin and beauty. But I fell wholeheartedly for the girl beneath the struggles, the one forcing her way out. The one suffocating. I helped her breathe. I'd give her life.

I believe this to be the first night I discovered the meaning of what it was to be truly in love with someone. And that somewhere in that lonely planet out there, there's someone just like you, who struggles like you, who dreams like you. Maybe destiny might not play an integral part. You have to keep your eyes open. Life could be right under you, and you'd never know it. Don't judge people on the outside, because on the inside…

They could be just like you.

They could _be_ you.

Or something like that.

__

The End

Author's Note: I finished OH MY LORD! This story was so difficult to do. (You know, this started off a short story…) Since my last one, I've gotten out of school went back to for summer school (for either a) math or b) my vast amount of tardies) and passed. ^^ Yay. I'm going to eighth grade, baby! Whoo. I'm thinking of doing a sequel to 'Gray Sky Morning'...what does everyone think? If so, I know what it'll be about. It'll be about Narcissa and Lucius missing each other terribly. It's going to be depressing. Very much so. We might even get to see Draco's side of things. So... (I know you're sick of hearing this...) review. I live off of reviews. ::Claps hands:: Feeding time!


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